


Nowhere Else to Run

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [144]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avengers Tower, Comfort, Domestic Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Reader-Insert, Stark Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Living in the Tower is so different from living with your parents. But when things suddenly get too real and bring up old memories, where could you possibly hide?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [144]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 15
Kudos: 242





	Nowhere Else to Run

**Author's Note:**

> Be aware that this reader deals with some memories about domestic abuse. I know it’s been a long time, but this is kind of a sequel to [Nowhere Else to Turn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080331), a lullaby which introduced a reader who had a rough/awful childhood and whose parents kicked them out in the middle of the pandemic. If you haven’t read it, or you haven’t read it in a while, you might want to read/reread it, but this could also stand alone now that you’ve read this note and you know about the reader’s backstory!

As the weeks went on, and the city fell deeper and deeper into the pandemic, you actually found yourself growing more and more comfortable in the Tower. It didn’t take quite as much of your willpower anymore, to allow Wanda to drag you into the common area to sit and drink and chat with the others. When Thor proposed yet another movie night, sometimes you even volunteered to make the popcorn for everybody, and his eyes always sparkled at you when you did. Old habits die hard, of course, so you did find yourself constantly worrying about wearing out your welcome or just suddenly becoming Too Much for the others. Maybe, when you were surrounded by the team, a sizeable chunk of your mental space was reserved for watching everyone else’s body language for any sign that they were growing annoyed with your presence.

You’d gotten pretty good at that. Growing up, your parents more or less forced you to become hyper-aware of body language. Often, you could tell a person’s mood just from the pattern of their breathing or from a certain hand gesture they made. Being able to sense the oncoming storm had become a sort of survival skill for you, and you weren’t proud of it, exactly, but you were glad for it. 

In any case, you didn’t need it here. Over time, you slowly came to realize that no one in the Tower was particularly likely to blow up at you for the smallest of reasons. No one felt entitled to control your life or your actions or your thoughts, so no one was flat-out insulted or enraged when you did something they didn’t necessarily want you to do. So who could really blame you if those carefully-honed survival skills of yours started to fall out of use?

Make no mistake, you were still a little uncomfortable. Maybe that was just going to be a permanent part of you. Growing up the way you did had all but convinced you that you could never be anything more than a nuisance and even here, where the others often greeted you with bright smiles and genuine happiness, you couldn’t shake it. In all honesty, you were most comfortable sitting nearly-alone in the sitting room in the dead of night. With Loki. After that first night, you found yourself creeping out there a little more often. It was a real struggle at first—your old thought patterns taunted you and told you that you were overdoing it and that Loki was getting tired of you—but something deeper inside you made you keep joining him. Maybe it was selfish, but you got the sense that maybe he didn’t mind.

Loki smiled at you more than you would ever have thought to expect. Sometimes you would look up from whatever you were doing and catch him just...smiling at you. Or sometimes you’d catch him regarding you with some sort of interest in his eyes and, when he realized that you were looking at him, he’d give you something like a sheepish smile. He asked a lot of questions about you—who you were, where you’d come from—but you did your best only to give him the most necessary information. You were here in part to get away from all of that, and you certainly weren’t going to tell everyone about your former life. But also, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the mystery of your past was a large part of what interested him. If he ever learned just how boring and nightmarish your childhood was, he was sure to lose interest. And you simply weren’t willing to give that up.

You came to treasure your time with him. If you timed things just right, you could take the lead in a conversation and get him to tell you so much about his life in Asgard. He built his palace in your mind with words and a wistful tone of voice, and it came to life. And, sure, after he spent a while each night telling you stories that reminded you of fairy tales—but _real—_ he did typically seek out some sort of payment in the form of a question you didn’t want to answer, but it usually felt worth it. You were always careful to hold back, careful to keep from destroying too much of the mystery. He saw right through you. He had to. When the silence between your words grew too wide, you could feel his eyes on your face like he was trying to find the answers there, but he didn’t push. 

The others surely knew how much time you were spending with him. He still didn’t spend much time with them and he certainly didn’t join you for movies or drinks. You did your best not to constantly talk about him but he was frequently on your mind. The things that he told you were _his_ stories. They weren’t yours to tell. But sometimes Thor would recount something from his childhood that clashed with one that Loki had told, and you longed to ask one of them—or both of them—what the real story was. Some nights, you’d hear someone pad into the kitchen while you sat in the room with Loki, but he never tried particularly hard to lower his voice to avoid being heard, so you didn’t allow yourself to do it either. It felt like he had so much to lose if the rest of the team found out about your nightly rituals, but if he didn’t care, then neither would you.

It was just a normal day when your past came back with a vengeance. Well, maybe not _normal_. Wanda, Natasha, and you were sitting in the living room. That felt a little odd, given that Natasha seemed to prefer working on things or simply working out over sitting around and doing nothing, but it was a nice way to spend an afternoon anyway. She flipped through the channels on the television as the three of you chatted. Wanda made sure to keep you engaged in the conversation even when everything in you was screaming to make yourself smaller, to be more quiet, not to ruin this. At one point, Nat looked over at you with a knowing glint in her eyes and asked how else you’d been spending your time here in the Tower. Your cheeks suffused with heat immediately. It was clear that she knew.

Before you could figure out how to answer her, though. Steve and Bucky had burst into the room. It made you flinch a bit, but you told yourself that no one was paying attention to you so it was fine. Steve prodded at Natasha a bit, telling her that there was a documentary he wanted to watch, and it was coming on soon, so could she change the channel real quick so they didn’t miss it?

She didn’t.

Instead, she looked over at you and Wanda and gave you a sly grin before telling the boys that this room was occupied and they’d need to go watch their old-man documentary somewhere else.

You saw the subtle shifts in the men’s body language before anyone else did. Steve and Bucky both pulled their shoulders back, squared them to make themselves look a little wider. Steve puffed his chest a little, while Bucky crossed his arms. You were familiar with both of their stances. You’d seen them both, usually just a few moments before something terrible happened. You felt your chest grow tight and looked helplessly over at Wanda, but she was grinning like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“Come on, the screen’s bigger in here,” Steve wheedled. “You’re not even watching anything. You’ve probably just been chatting all afternoon.”

“So? We were here first.” Natasha’s voice was rock-steady, which contrasted sharply against the way everything inside you was beginning to tremble. “Move along, boys.”

“Fight ya for it?” This whole conversation felt at once supremely childish and supremely dangerous. Steve was grinning down at Nat, which was distinctly different from all the other times you’d experienced anything like this, but you couldn’t shake your horror. Nat stood up and tossed the remote effortlessly towards Wanda before assuming a fighting stance of her own. You couldn’t look away. 

Men got what they wanted. They didn’t even have to ask for it. If someone stood in their way, especially a woman or a girl, they took care of the issue without a second thought. Even though Steve and Nat were grinning at each other as they circled, your mind was filled with the sounds of screaming arguments, of crushing blows against bodies. He was so much bigger than she was. He was going to hurt her. He was going to hurt her _badly_. 

There was no “best approach” in a situation like this. Sometimes staying frozen where you were only caught his attention and brought it onto yourself. Sometimes trying to sneak away did the exact same thing. Today, even though your legs felt frozen, your brain was screaming at you to run and hide. You shook yourself out of your stupor even as Natasha fell away from Steve’s attempt to grab her. Bucky was still more or less blocking the doorway, but you managed to shrink yourself small enough to fit around him so you could escape into the hall.

But things really only got worse then. As you took measured, careful steps away from the fight in the living room, guilt set in. You shouldn’t leave her behind. He could hurt her. He could kill her. And what would you do then? If you ventured back into the room sometime later and found her motionless on the floor, and you knew you’d done nothing to stop it?

You drew in a choked breath and tried to push the thought out of your mind. It was Natasha Romanoff and Captain America. No one was going to get seriously hurt. Your rational mind knew that they were just playing around. There was no real danger going on. But your panicked, childish mind was too caught up in the past. Your heart was racing. Your stomach was churning. You hadn’t had an attack like this in years, and you hated yourself for it.

On your way through the hall, you were too caught up in your own mind to look where you were going. As anyone should have expected, you ran straight into yet another sturdy chest. You couldn’t stop the ragged, panicked whimper that escaped your lips as you tried to yank yourself away. They grabbed your arms to keep you on your feet, but in your head it was a threat. This is what you got for fleeing. Your legs gave out, and you slid down the wall at your back despite the way they tried to hold you up. Rather than letting you go, though, they must have dropped to their knees too. They said your name, reached up to lift your chin to get a look at you, and a blurry face came into sight.

Loki.

 _Fuck_.

You tried to babble out some kind of explanation, some kind of apology, but your lips and tongue weren’t cooperating. You sounded absolutely insane. You gave up the fight, then, and closed your eyes, shaking your head over and over again as though you could shake his touch off of you. It worked, sort of. He let go of your face and you arm, but you felt him take both of your hands in his. You were cold and clammy and disgusting, but he held you tightly.

“…safe here. Do you hear…” His words faded in and out, like your brain could only focus on them for so long at a time. You appreciated them anyway. “No one can hurt… …got you. Breathe…” He must have said the same things over and over again, because your brain picked up on similar words here and there. But your shame wouldn’t allow you to take any comfort in them. You were a coward. You ran away. You were having a breakdown in the middle of fucking Avengers Tower, and Loki, of all people, was watching you. 

“Sorry… I’m sorry.” It was all you could say between desperate gasps and choking sobs. Here and there, you managed a swear word, and that did help a little, but you still really just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever. You could feel the attack starting to lessen a little, but you dreaded that return to normalcy almost as much as you hated what was happening right now. How would you face him after this? He’d expect more of an explanation, surely.

“Don’t be sorry… …breathe, alright? In and… …and out.” 

More things were making more sense now. It became easier to match the breaths he was taking, especially when he brought your hands up to press them against his belly. He placed one of his hands on your belly, too, which somehow helped you to match the breaths he was taking. Slowly, _painfully_ slowly, you felt your body beginning to return to something approaching normal. There were tears welling in your eyes and, desperate to hide them, you flung yourself forward a bit to press your face against Loki’s shoulder. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. In fact, he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back gently, in soft circles meant to soothe. You gripped his waist and did not bother, for some time, to fight the tears. This was just how your body worked. You panicked, you fled, and then you cried. It was just like what a useless little baby would do. You knew that Loki knew you were crying, but he was making no move to pull away or look at you. He let you hide against him.

At last, your body was spent. You kept your face pressed against him despite your growing awareness of the utter impropriety of this. He didn’t know you. You barely knew him. You definitely should not have been manhandling him like this. He deserved so many apologies when you were normal again. And, like… bouquets. Or cupcakes. You still didn’t want to pull away, because you knew that, when you did, you’d have to look at how awkward you’d made him feel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you gritted out against his shoulder. Maybe you owed him an explanation. “Steve and Nat, they were fighting. And my father…? He would fight? He yelled and he punched. He’s mean. And I’m stupid, so...”

But Loki only shushed you and continued to rub those gentle circles against your back. “You’re not stupid,” he said in a voice that was just sharp enough to forbid you to disagree. “It’s alright, you’re safe here. No one can hurt you here. I’ve got you.”

There was just something about him—about the feel of his body against yours, the feel of his hand on your back, the sound of his voice so soft and gentle in your ear—that made it easy to believe him. He was resting his chin on your shoulder, holding you close, and he did it in a way that made it so you _didn’t_ feel the need to immediately rip yourself away from him. After a few more minutes, just to make sure that everything was normal again, you tightened your arms around him one more time and rubbed your cheek against his shoulder. He took the hint and released you so you could pull away a little, but immediately reached up to cup your cheeks in his hands. 

“There, now.” He sounded so soft. Had anyone else ever heard him sound like this before? He ventured the smallest of smiles. “Alright?”

“Yeah. I’m sor—” but you cut yourself off. Stop apologizing, he’d said. You drew in another steadying breath and met his eyes again. “Thank you.”

Something caught his eyes before he could respond, and you followed his startled gaze until your eyes fell on the others—Steve, Nat, Wanda, Bucky—standing grimly in the doorway and watching the two of you. They’d seen everything. Or they’d seen enough. Immediately, your face flushed with heat, but Loki did not release you and instead brushed his thumbs against your face as though to cool it. Yet another apology sprang to your lips, but before you could say a word, Steve butted in:

“God, I’m sorry. I had no idea. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have…” He sounded horrified, but somehow that only lessened your own horror. Maybe it meant that he wasn’t just mentally going over and over how wacked-out you were.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t...you.” It was hard to explain what your mind had done. Inadvertently, you met Loki’s eyes. He was still staring intently at you, watching you like he wanted to make sure you weren’t going to flip out again. But it didn’t feel clinical. It felt like he just wanted to keep you from feeling like that again. It felt like he cared. You drew your lower lip between your teeth and bit down. The quick, sharp pain helped you focus.

“Do you guys want to come watch a documentary? The both of you?” Wanda sounded hopeful, but you didn’t take your eyes off of Loki. He raised his eyebrows at you, a question you answered easily with a slight nod of your head. Secretly, you wanted to hide yourself away from these people, especially now. But you knew that doing that would only make you look even worse. If Loki came with you, maybe you could do it. 

He rose to his feet first, but slowly, and then took your hand to help you up as well. When he guided you back into the living room and settled himself onto a couch, you were still just off-balance enough to sit down close enough to him that you could still press yourself against him. He put his other arm around your shoulder, and then, with his free hand, he reached to take yours again.

He didn’t let you go.


End file.
